


Purgatory Will Do That to You

by chucks_prophet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Scene, Bathing/Washing, Comfort/Angst, Cuddling & Snuggling, Episode: s08e07 A Little Slice of Kevin, Guilt is the Third Character Here, Heavy Angst, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Naked Cuddling, Sad Dean, Showers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-10 01:33:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12288411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chucks_prophet/pseuds/chucks_prophet
Summary: Cas doesn't hear him come in, but he can feel that the air is different.Not even the steam can mask the musky odor infused with the well-aged whiskey that hits his bare neck sooner than later. Cas breathes out a sigh he's been holding for a year. Perhaps longer. There's no telling when he's wasted most his life sheltered from the one human that actually gives him, an angel, reason to breathe.





	Purgatory Will Do That to You

**Author's Note:**

> An alternate scene to the one in 8x07, where this is what happens in-between Cas getting cleaned up.

Cas doesn't hear him come in, but he can feel that the air is different.

For once, it's not contaminated by the smell of the scorched marshland that stretched for seemingly miles, or the taste of grit from the sand, salty and grinding against his teeth like Robusta beans— which, when he laid his ragged body on the shore, isn't too far from the truth.

Except it wasn't the sand that kept him awake. Nor the smell. Or even the litany of noises coming from the trees: It was his own bleeding humanity. It was knowing he put Dean in danger.

No—this air is lighter. The only real heaviness to it is the steam billowing from the shower that'll likely coat the mirrors long before he steps out—unlike the water in Purgatory that, despite being laden with dirt and debris from many bodies before his, he could still see his reflection in. And aside from his pale complexion, his hedge of a beard, and sunken eyes that sucked the color from the water yet still refused to shine, he saw pain. Grief. Guilt.

And worst of all, he saw love.

And the smell. Not even the steam can mask the musky odor infused with the well-aged whiskey that hits his bare neck sooner than later. Cas breathes out a sigh he's been holding for a year. Perhaps longer. There's no telling when he's wasted most his life sheltered from the one human that actually gives him, an angel, reason to breathe.

Cas turns around to the sight of Dean's naked form and though he can't will himself to smile just yet, there’s a feeling he kept in storage for nearly two years after the Leviathan incident: pride. Pride that he took part in rebuilding such a beautiful form.

But Cas knows that's not the focal point right now. The way his earthly green eyes are fixed on him tells him Dean is playing a mental game of poker, debating whether or not to ask Cas what he so desperately needs to. Only, the bravado doesn’t hold up well because Cas can see the apology in his eyes—the doubt, the guilt, the shame, everything.

So Cas just nods, giving Dean permission to have his way with him. Dean grabs the bar of scented motel shampoo to his left, pops the cap, and drizzles some onto his hands. Then, once he rubs into his palms, he moves slowly to rub it into Cas's pigeon nest hair.

Cas all but purrs at the sensation, closing his eyes as Dean's calloused but warm hands work out the sweat and dirt that bonded together into knots he didn't know he had. He only opens his eyes when he feels Dean's hand brush against his temple, where some suds had slipped down.

Up close, he sees the tension bracketing Dean's jaw and the coral color around his eyes—a stark contrast to his pale white skin.

Neither men breaks their newfound gaze when Dean leans forward, just a few inches from Cas's face, before he has a bottle of shaving cream in his possession. He pulls back to shake it a couple times and repeats his actions, taking the time to massage it into Cas's face. Cas keeps his eyes open this time, not wanting to miss an opportunity he has knowing Dean is here with him, alive and safe.

Once Cas's beard and neck are thoroughly covered in cream, Dean then reaches for the razor and, his left hand lightly cradling the underside of Cas's jaw for balance, starts shaving.

Hair comes off in chunks around them, but Dean is too focused to be bothered by it. He works from the right side of Cas’s face to the left and down his neck, shaking out the razor every so often the same way a painter would shake out their brush into a water canteen before placing it back on the canvas. The gentleness is certainly there and nothing is hurried, either.

Next, Dean swaps the shaving cream and razor for the dwindling bar of soap next to the shampoo. Only, instead of using the bar to cleanse Cas's body, he takes the it between his hands, coating his palms in the soft, sudsy scent. Then he places his hands on either side of Cas’s face and slowly slides them down the smooth, sun-kissed hills of his neck, over his large rounded shoulders and breasts, down the grassless plateau of his stomach…

Which leaves Dean at the start of Cas’s cock. But Dean doesn’t touch that part of him. Instead, still holding Cas's gaze, he drops down and spreads his fingers out on Cas’s hips so he gets more of his thighs and legs with the soap. And, for the first time since Dean joined him, Cas is under the water, the tap warm as it dances off his skin, washing away Dean's handiwork from his hair to his toes as Dean repeats his ministrations on Cas’s flip side.

Although, he doesn't get further than the small of Cas's back before Cas feels his hands still on his hips and a second head barely resting between his shoulder.

Cas doesn't lean into it, though. Not because he doesn't want to, but because he knows if he does, Dean will pull back.

So instead, he closes his eyes like the shutter of a camera and captures the moment for as long as he can.

 

 

Dean seems heavier when they're out of the shower. His shoulders are tighter and his hands are bunched into the towel he's using to dry Cas off, and Cas knows why. Dean may think he's good at suppressing his feelings, and Cas may not have a complete grasp at human emotion yet, but he can still feel Dean's soul. Can feel the guilt clutching onto it with a vice grip—like the one he thought he had on Cas before he slipped through the portal.

"Dean, I..."

Dean snaps his eyes to Cas, and that's enough for Cas to retract what he's going to say.

They'll get there. Dean will know eventually.

For now, Cas is content to slip underneath the covers after him and hold him like he'll lose him again.


End file.
